


From Lemon Cakes to Murder

by lslhnsn12



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Crack, F/M, Fluid Sexuality, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-10-06 16:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lslhnsn12/pseuds/lslhnsn12
Summary: Once upon a time, Sansa had plans to be a clothing designer, married to the golden-haired heir to the Lannister-Baratheon dynasty with a slew of perfect children.  Somewhere along the way, she ended up a private investigator instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm doing this. 
> 
> First and foremost, I own absolutely nothing but the grammar mistakes, spelling errors, and awkward run-on sentences. All characters etc belongs to GRR Martin and/or HBO. 
> 
> Second, I am trying something a little new so anyone who is reading the other fiction I am working on, this is very much not like it. I want you to know that going in. (And then if you are reading the other one, thanks for reading it!) This is 100% OOC. It's an attempt to add a little whimsy into my life so it is inherently ridiculous. It was born out of a comment on my other fic (The title comes from that comment. Thank you, Tommyginger for that. I'm not sure this is really what we talked about but I've noticed that when I try to write something, it turns into something else). Anyway, this is my attempt at humor and a mix of old British murder mysteries and modern technology. 
> 
> Third and finally, this is my second fiction and I don't know where it's going, and the first one kind of comes first because I feel like starting it, I sort of made a contract to everyone reading so until I finish it, this one will be sporadically updated. First one comes first, I guess. This is partly a reminder to myself and partly a promise to the people who have read that from the beginning and I guess partly a warning to anyone who finds this interesting. 
> 
> Anyway, um. Here you go?

Arya doesn't even give Sansa a chance to fix her hair before she takes a picture, grinning all the way. And maybe this isn't the time to be vain, but Sansa knows Arya is going to be showing this picture for years to come. It's a good story. Of course, Arya will share it. But damn it. Couldn't Arya have at least given her a moment to freshen up a little? One day her children might see this photo. 

“I see you have brought reinforcements,” Sansa sniffs a little eyeing Jon and Theon who are trailing behind. Theon is grinning at her. She steps back a little and purses her lips. She looks unconcerned at her nails despite knowing that smug look Theon is directing at her is for her benefit. To be fair, when he was in this position, she did the exact same thing. She frowns when she notices a chip on her pink nails. She just got these done. 

“You okay?” Jon asks kindly. She looks up at him and smiles brightly, relishing in how he flushes. He hasn’t been able to look her in the eyes since she stayed with him and Ygritte in that isolated cabin for a long weekend. Ygritte, on the other hand, is positively lecherous when they meet up. 

“I’m fine, Jon. Thank you for asking.” She is always polite, even here. 

“Robb will be glad to hear that.” Arya responds gleefully watching Sansa’s mask drop. “He’s posting bail as we speak.”

“Oh god, Arya. What’d you do?”

“You didn’t think I had the money, did you?” Arya is way too happy about this turn of events, snapping another picture of Sansa with her phone. Sansa had called Arya for a reason and didn’t call Robb for that very same reason. While Arya may gloat and laugh at her, at least she wouldn’t lecture her. 

“Of course she won’t do this again, Inspector Baratheon.” Sansa hears Robb before she sees him. 

“Chief Inspector.” CI Baratheon corrects him. “And I should hope not.” 

“Of course, Chief Inspector. My apologies. Thank you so much for letting us come get her.”

The two of them round the corner where Theon and Arya are watching the entire proceedings with glee and Jon is looking anywhere but at Sansa, and Sansa. Well, Sansa is standing as dignified as possible behind bars with a group of disorderly women behind her. According to them were arrested for prostitution but really they were just having a bit of fun. It wasn’t their fault they thought the officer on duty was a stripper. It was a hen do after all. 

Robb stops behind Jon and gives her a reprimanding look. He doesn’t have a whole lot of practice with that look considering about three years ago she was bailing him and Theon out of a similar cell for drunken disorderly conduct. Everyone says they look alike, her and Robb. Staring at his disappointed adult face, she hopes not too much. He's gotten so serious since taking over the family business, not even Theon can cajole him out of these moods. 

The CI lets her out of the cell with a pinched look. If CI Baratheon wasn’t so dour and serious, she might find him attractive. No. Not attractive, but interesting. He’s fit, for sure, and wears his uniform well, and his eyes are striking. He had a deft hand when arresting her, gentle but firm. Even when she was protesting. Now, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and does not dignify him with even one glance. Instead, she gives a jaunty goodbye to the hens left in the cage. 

“Thank you so much for your kind words. I certainly will request Inspector Seaworth if I am ever arrested again. Apparently,” and here she directs her words to the vicinity of CI Baratheon "he knows how to treat a lady.”

“Ladies do not trespass on private property.” is the protest behind her, but having four passionate siblings and two add ons, Sansa has perfected her exit. Her melodrama is second only to Robb’s. CI Baratheon doesn’t stand a chance in this fight of theirs. Because now it is a fight. She marches right out of the holding pen, nose in the air. His face becomes more pinched. Does he feel emotions? 

“Arrest me for trespassing,” she is muttering as she exits the station. “My services were requested. I don’t just show up places.” She stops abruptly cause Jon to bump into her and immediately start stammering apologies. “My little finger investigates better than that entire force! It’s no wonder Margaery called me instead of asking them for help!”

It’s not like she went into this purposefully. Honestly, all she ever wanted to design clothing and marry Joffrey Baratheon and have a slew of babies. They would have lived in a large white house with a blue door where she’d throw large parties and invite her family, who would behave for once. She’d have three perfect little angels with blond hair and bright eyes. It would have been marvelous.

Except.

Joffrey was an abusive little shit. She put up with it, always thinking that he would change or her love for him would change him or maybe it was his love for her that would change him. It was all romantic and sweet and utter utter bullshit. No golden-haired children or huge mansion. No parties and clothing designs. Instead, she spent four months tracking down proof of his lying cheating ways. And wasn’t that the pits? She ended it with him because he cheated, not because he abused her. 

But it ended up setting a precedent for her. She was good at investigating. She was good at research and focus. Unflattering as it was, she was no poodle, no wolf. No, she was a bloody bloodhound, able to suss out information people didn’t want to be found, able to find people who didn’t want to be found. It started with minor cases of missing jewelry or stolen goods for friends and then friends of friends and then friends of friends’ friends. Then they started paying her for it, especially when the police couldn’t help. She once found a missing child, Of course, the child had wandered off following a puppy, and Sansa just followed a sticky trail of sweets while the Inspector at the time drank tea with the family. But, it gave her a reputation. For once, a good one. 

This was, of course, the first time she’d ever been arrested. In the CI’s defense, she was snooping around the Tyrell flower gardens. But, in her defense, Margaery had hired her to find a missing brooch. Except, she just knew there was something odd going on because Margaery’s grandmother kept insisting she come in for tea. Either they wanted to rub Margaery’s “good fortune” in her face, (it was a friendly competition she swears) or they had something dangerous up their sleeves. Whichever way, she stuck to the garden. Saw Cercei Lannister-Baratheon and then was arrested. 

There might have been a heated argument of words between Cercei and herself prior to the arrest. And maybe there was some shoving involved. And a broken bush or two. (That poor rose bush) But that’s beside the point. The point, of course, is that she was arrested because Cercei Lannister-Baratheon is a pompous obnoxious shrill creature who never liked her and claimed she was trespassing when really she was an invited guest. 

“How much do I owe you?” Sansa asks Robb as they pile into the car. She’s trying to hold on to that dignified persona of hers, dressed in yesterday's clothes, smelling like the holding pen but it’s hard with Theon smirking and Arya shoving her towards the backseat. 

“You owe me a favor for not telling Mum and Dad.” Robb says sternly. 

“I’m twenty-four” Sansa squawks at him. “I’m old enough to be arrested if I want.” Wait. That’s not what she wants to say. “What I mean is, it’s none of Mum and Dad’s concern if I’m arrested. I’m a contributing member of society and if some upstart CI…”

“Get in the car” Robb says. Arya, while gleefully recording this, wisely says nothing. Jon helps Sansa into the car with a smile directed somewhere towards her left ear. 

While Arya does something, possibly uploading these pictures to the Instagram their parents have no access to, Theon and Robb argue passionately about an upcoming rugby match, and Jon texts with Ygritte, Sansa stares out the window thinking about CI Baratheon and the oddities of the entire Tyrell-Lannister-Baratheon luncheon. 

There were so many thoughts swirling in her mind. She was obviously a foil for some plan they have or a patsy. She was supposed to bump into something she “wasn’t supposed to discover.” By all accounts, Margaery should be happy and settled. She was about to marry into the Lannister-Baratheon dynasty. They wouldn’t have paid Sansa to come and look at their garden if they just wanted to brag about Margaery’s delightful match. 

Unless she didn’t want to get married and needed a way out. But that didn’t explain why Cersei was outside during tea, or why she was so upset about the rose bush Sansa was inspecting. It really was a ghastly rose bush. Looked like it was dying while the rest around it seemed fine. 

Also why did the Tyrells want Sansa inside when they had told her they were sure the broach was lost when they were outside. Actually, why did they hire her to find a missing broach that they claimed was lost outside? Didn’t they have employees to look for things like that? 

This also didn’t explain why was Cersei so distraught when CI Baratheon arrived. Of all the Inspectors, surely the one related to you would be the best bet in getting you out of trouble?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her parents were sort of supportive, she supposed. They seemed mostly confused by her slow career change and partially appalled by her attitude change. Sarcasm had become her best friend. She didn’t understand their concerns. She was mostly the same, still loved being fashionable, still liked the idea of romance (even if her notions of what romance and love were had changed), and still did her best to be a decent older sister, despite what Arya teased her about. The main difference was, she now spoke her mind. It wasn’t like she didn’t have these thoughts before, she just never voiced them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing but the grammatical mistakes in this story as well as any inconsistencies in the plot or in describing situation. 
> 
> I'm not 100% sure where this is going but I was hit with a little inspiration. Thanks for reading!

The patriarch of the Baratheon-Lannister family, Robert Baratheon, was a gregarious man, generous of spirit and body who at one time must have been a strapping young man with considerable amounts of charm. Like most men born into extremely wealthy families, he was flippant, vibrant, and inconsiderate, but he had a natural charisma that lingered to this day. Strangely enough, he was Chief Inspector Stannis Baratheon’s brother and Ned Starks’ best friend, both of them much more subdued than him; his brother being borderline dour. 

Sans doesn’t think about him very often. She had once daydreamed about him as her father-in-law, imagining the cheerful comradery between her own father and Robert on the day of her wedding. Two best friends joining families. But seeing her once almost father-in-law half naked and drunk on his lawn put a damper on those daydreams. And after being dissed and dismissed by her almost fiance, she promptly put the Baratheons out of her mind, especially Robert.

When Margaery had invited her to the Baratheon-Lannister Manor, Sansa figured she’d bump into her almost father-in-law, but to her surprise, before being arrested, she did not. So she is taken by surprise a day later to find him with rolled up sleeves, a mug of tea in his hands, murmuring quietly to her father in the kitchen. 

“Sansa” Robert says with forced joviality “Aren’t you a picture? I didn’t know you were back. I thought you were out seeing the world. Still, it’s a delight to see you.” He shifts himself out of the chair, wincing slightly as he does so, reaching to shake her hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Baratheon.”

“Oh, Robert will do now. We’re all adults here.” 

Sansa cuts a look at her father who gives her one back. He looks tired and a little sad. 

“Robert, then.” She walks over to the kettle. It’s empty. As she fills the kettle, she listens in without a hint of shame to the murmurs between her father and his oldest and dearest friend.

“I should just up and leave. Vultures, the lot of them. Somehow I’m on the hook for this bloody wedding. Isn’t the bride’s family supposed to pay? Try getting that Olenna Tyrell to pay for anything.”

“You just have to get through the wedding. Once that’s done…”Her father trails off when he realizes his disaster of a daughter is openly eavesdropping. “Sansa! What on earth are you doing.”

She has nothing to lose these days. It might be making her reckless, she thinks to herself. She’s twenty four, living in the room she grew up in, having returned from quitting school and gaining a reputation for being a nosy busy body but also a damn good investigator.

“I’m making tea and listening to you counsel Robert through the wedding of the century.” The kettle whistles and she pours a mug before offering her father and Robert a top up. While her father gazes at her with confusion and frustration (he and her mother hadn't taken her attitude changes well), Robert smiles.

“What do you suggest I do?” He asks grinning at her. For a second, looking at his large face, she can almost see why a woman might swoon. It’s very different from his dour brother. She frowns thinking of Chief Inspector Baratheon, that pompous rude know it all who was fit but rude.

“Well?” his question interrupts that train of thought.

She pauses for a moment, contemplating Cersei and Olenna Tyrell simpering at each other while Margaery racked up an obscene wedding bill. 

“Robert, I suggest the country. You could take up fishing. Relax in a boat with a lovely ale..”

Robert roars with laughter, and both Sansa and her father smile. It’s an infectious laugh. He wipes at his eyes as his chuckles fade out. 

“I will never forgive my son for not marrying you, Sansa Stark.” 

Sansa had forgotten about the most delightful aspect of Robert, his tact. Her smile becomes a little forced. 

“On that note, I shall take my tea into the other room to ruminate the what ifs of my life.” Her father hears the sarcasm in her voice, but Robert does not. 

“It was a pure delight to see you. I had grown jealous when my brother told me he had bumped into you not too long ago.”

Sansa’s heart almost stops. Her father doesn't seem to notice anything amiss.

“Your brother?” 

What did CI Baratheon tell Robert? That she’d been arrested for trespassing? That she’d been a disheveled mess from almost physically fighting his wife? That he’d taken her by the arm in a surprisingly firm but gentle hold. That she’d flirted a little trying to weasel her way out of the situation, and he’d shot her down but then spent the entire ride peeking at her? 

“Yes, Renly said he bumped into you when he was leaving Margaery’s tea party the other day. I believe he is good friends with her brother.”

“Renly.”She can’t hide the relief in her voice. It’s so obvious her father gives her a confused look that she ignores. “Of course. Yes, he and Loras are good good friends.” 

She had completely forgotten about Renly in the aftermath of her arrest. Come to think of it, he’d been a little shifty when she’d bumped into him. She hastily says her goodbyes and wanders up the stairs back into her bedroom.

She sits down at her desk and pulls out a sleek rose gold tablet Robb bought her for two Christmases ago. Robb bought it to make fun of her, calling her princess Sansa, but she’s gotten a lot of traction out of it. It’s been incredibly helpful in her investigations. She has folders of all her old cases neatly organized. It’s slim enough to fit in her purse. has voice note taking as well as a really good camera. It also matches her phone and, currently, her toe nails. 

Her parents were sort of supportive, she supposed. They seemed mostly confused by her slow career change and partially appalled by her attitude change. Sarcasm had become her best friend. She didn’t understand their concerns. She was mostly the same, still loved being fashionable, still liked the idea of romance (even if her notions of what romance and love were had changed), and still did her best to be a decent older sister, despite what Arya teased her about. The main difference was, she now spoke her mind. It wasn’t like she didn’t have these thoughts before, she just never voiced them. 

Things had changed when Joffrey broke her heart and freed her. It was like a veil had been lifted and she was allowed to say and do whatever she thought. Her parents were worried she was still in love with Joffrey. Robb thought she’d had a mental breakdown and only sort of forgave her for that Jon and Ygritte weekend which he made her promise to never ever share details about. Bran was Bran and Rickon had found her more interesting all of a sudden and begged to go on adventures with her. But the real change was with Arya. 

They’d never been close before, and now she couldn’t imagine going a day without texting or talking to Arya. Arya was the one who encouraged this slow career change. As a joke, Arya bought her a fedora and cigarette case telling her that every good PI needs a cigarette case and a hat. Sansa would never wear such a cheap hat, but she hung it on the wall for inspiration and bought a few fashionable hats in case. 

Often Sansa runs her cases by Arya. Not because Arya helps that much. As Arya states it she’s less interested in the gossip and is not nearly as nosey as Sansa, but it’s nice to talk things through out loud, and Arya always listens. She’s dragged her sister down weird alleys before and once into that sketchy pub where she met Ygritte before Jon even introduced them. But right now, she has nothing to run by Arya because the case feels fake.

She’s had a lot of time to think about Margaery’s brooch. No one seemed that worried about it being missing. Honestly, she thinks the whole thing was an excuse to get her there. She hasn’t been by the Baratheon-Lannister Mansion since she discovered Margaery with her hands down Joffrey’s pants. The thing is, she’s just not sure why they wanted her there. 

She pulls up her case notes on the tablet with a Swarovski encrusted stylus that Theon bought her. He also called her Princess Sansa for day. He and Robb thought they were so clever. But for two people invested in mocking her, they certainly enjoyed feeding her shiny addiction. She did love the way it all sparkled. 

Her notes were brief and to the point. And basically as follows:

Antique brooch  
Expensive  
Family heirloom?  
Missing for a week

That was it. That was everything she had. They hadn’t even given her a real idea of where it had gone missing. She had assumed, wrongly, that it had been lost outside. Once she got there, they insisted it must have been inside and kept offering her tea. And then Cersei called the police. And she had no time to really think at all. 

If it was that big of a deal, why hire her instead of the police, and why wait a week? CI Baratheon was about to be Margaery’s uncle-in-law (was that a thing? It must be a thing). Surely he’d be delighted (HA) to help. She snorts unladylike thinking of Stannis crawling under bushes looking for a brooch. 

Bushes. The rose bush. What was Cersei doing there? She was supposed to be inside with Margaery and family drinking tea, talking about the wedding, planning the honeymoon, etc. So why was she outside?

Sansa takes a moment to think back. What if Cersei wasn’t worried about Sansa seeing something but rather, someone. But really, the only person she’d seen out there was Cersei’s brother Jamie. Except, what if it was Renly Cersei didn’t want Sansa to know she’d been talking to. They were notorious for not getting along. And when she’d bumped into Renly, she had assumed he’d just left the house but really, they were both on the walkway, and he could have come from anywhere. 

Sansa pulls up a new document and begins to type a little. She’s a fan of copious notes and suspicious of coincidences. She begins by making a list of all the people who were at Margaery’s party, starting with the Baratheon-Lannister family. Only two people were missing from that party, Robert and Joffrey, but Cersei and the two younger children were there. The whole Tyrell clan was there, down to a sixth cousin twice removed. There were friends as well. 

Her door burst open and Arya sauntered in, flopping down on her bed, her legs hanging off the side. 

“I just quit my job.” she said airily. “I’ve decided that I hate everything and everyone. I’m going to be your bodyguard. I’ll be the badass Hastings to your Poirot. The modern Watson to your Sherlock. And so on.”

Sansa looks over at her sister. When Arya forwent University, their parents had insisted she get a real job. She somehow ended up working at a gym downtown. While the physical aspects of it all was very Arya, the customer service side was not. Arya had been threatening to quit for a few months.

“Did you really?” Sansa murumered, leaving her desk to lay opposite of Arya. 

“I did. You inspired me, you know. You quitting University to live at home and pick up odd gigs as an unlicensed PI. I thought, why not. Why am I living my life so miserably, when I could do anything else. LIterally anything else.”

“Mum and Dad are going to kill me, aren’t they?”

“Not yet. If Robb spills about bailing you out of jail” She shrugs. “Well, that’s another story.”

“He better not say a thing. I have so much dirt on him and Theon.” Sansa turns her head to look at her sister. I don’t think Margaery wanted me there to solve a case.”

“Well, duh.” 

“I’m still going to charge her” Sansa tells her earnestly. Arya lifts and eyebrow. “Because I’m going to continue the case. Well, not that case. I’m going to pretend to be dumb enough to think there is a case. But something else is going on and I want to know what.”

“God. You are so nosy.”Arya sighs noisily. “Okay. What are we investigating?”

“Cersei Lannister.”

“You’re going to get arrested again.”


	3. In the Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The phone call with Margaery goes as such. Sansa simpers at Margaery, apologizing for the confusion and embarrassment of a guest being dragged away. Margaery simpers back that no no, it wasn’t Sansa’s fault her mother-in-law to be is hysterical. They both then simper back and forth and back and forth. Sansa has no idea what Margaery is doing during this pretend apology, but Sansa is cleaning her bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that I own nothing except the grammatical errors. 
> 
> Well, I had an idea and then realized, I kind of need to set it up a bit. So here we go.

The phone call with Margaery goes as such. Sansa simpers at Margaery, apologizing for the confusion and embarrassment of a guest being dragged away. Margaery simpers back that no no, it wasn’t Sansa’s fault her mother-in-law to be is hysterical. They both then simper back and forth and back and forth. Sansa has no idea what Margaery is doing during this pretend apology, but Sansa is cleaning her bathroom.

She listens to Margaery blame everything on Cersei while vigorously scrubbing her tub. Then while Margaery promises if Sansa comes back, it will be much nicer, she wipes down the sink and mirror. When Margaery continues that she still needs to find her broach, Sansa is leaning in closer to the mirror because she thinks she might have a spot on her chin. That is, of course, when Robb walks in. Sansa is mhming and picking at her chin, while Margaery blabbers on about something. 

“Classy.” Robb mutters at Sansa who startles and then glares at him. She needs to wrap this conversation up. Her bathroom is cleaned and it’s late in the afternoon. 

“Margaery, please. It was, of course, all my fault. And I would be delighted to come back and look into this for you. Please. Do not worry about it. These things happen during investigations. Yes….”She nods as Margaery continues. “Yes. I have to go now, my dear friend. But of course I’ll be over on Friday….mhm mhm...Could I bring a plus one?...mhm mhm. Ah. Thank you.”

She finally hangs up. The bathroom is pristine and the spot on her face wasn’t really a spot, but a speck of dust where she had rubbed herself. She turns to look at Robb.

“Don’t you knock?” 

She pushes past him into her bedroom tossing the phone onto her bed. Her room is the only one, besides the master, with an en suite. She had begged and pleaded and eventually bribed her siblings to get the room. It was hard won, but worth it because at least she always knew the bathroom was clean. When she came back home, and she moved right back into her old room, she tried to create a new vibe. She was an adult. If she couldn’t afford an apartment, she would make her old bedroom into an efficiency, with parental approval, naturally. 

Of course, her siblings, who didn’t understand things like privacy or maturing or change, still came and went from her bedroom, using her bathroom, forgetting that she was a grown woman and not a teenager. Robb was the worst because he didn’t even live at home anymore. At least with Rickon and Bran, they still lived at home. And Arya was Arya so it was fine. But Robb. Well, half of it probably was that he still saw her as an idiot eighteen year old.

“What’s this about a date?” he asks following her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m taking Arya to a party.” 

Sansa goes to her closet to pick out a new outfit. After exuberantly cleaning the bathroom, she is looking forward to a nice soothing shower. She can hear Robb moving about her room, picking things up and putting them back down. He’s sighing heavily.

“Robb, what on earth do you want?” She turns around to find him shaking a snow-globe Rickon got her for Christmas. It supposedly depicts the Smoky Mountains which Rickon has never been to but the mountains look like cartoon mountains and it’s glitter rather than snow. It’s an eyesore that does not match her aesthetic, but Rickon was so proud that he spent his own money on her gift that she cooed over it and kept it in a place of pride. Still it’s a better gift than what Bran got which they think was a Sir Isaac Newton bobble-head but the face was so deformed it really could be anyone. 

“Put that down.” she says taking the snow-globe from him. “Why are you even here right now?”

“I need a favor.” He says, opening his blue eyes as wide as he can. She thinks it’s an attempt at puppy dog eyes. He’s not very good at it, she thinks to herself. 

“What is it?” 

Favors for Robb vary monthly. One month she’s baking cookies for his work and the next one she’s bailing him out of jail, though to be fair he did bail her out of jail. Does she owe him one now?

“The thing is, Theon wants to go out, but I have a date….” 

She stares at him. He stares back. She says nothing and waits him out. She isn’t a mind reader.

“I need you to wing-man him.”

“What. Why on earth would that be a good idea.” She is genuinely flabbergasted that he would think this was a good idea. She’s not vain. Okay, she is a little. But she knows she’s an attractive woman. Theon needs a wingman. Why would he take an attractive woman to the club with him if he was trying to get laid?

“You can talk him up to pretty girls?” 

Robb is completely clueless. Theon has never attracted the kind of attention that comes effortlessly to Robb. Half the girls that go on dates with Theon after Robb talks him up, are really only there in an attempt to get Robbs attention. Robb showing up with an attractive woman would make other women compete even harder for his attention. Theon showing up with a woman, any woman, would have literally no reaction. 

Her phone chimes like a bell from heaven interrupting the frankly idiot conversation she is having with her brother and Sansa dives for it. It’s Arya asking what happened with Margaery. This is the perfect excuse to kick Robb out.

“Do you mind?” She asks gesturing with her phone. She picks it up, acting like she’s about to make another phone call when in reality she’s just going to text back. 

“Right.” Robb backs out of the room, grinning that smile he gets when he thinks he’s won. “Theon will be by around 9 pm. Try to be nice. I haven’t told him I can’t go.” And he’s gone leaving Sansa gaping behind him.

She eventually texts Arya a brief update, reminding her as Sansa’s plus-one Arya has to wear something appropriate. Doesn’t have to be a dress, but if she wears a pantsuit, it better fit. And no trainers. Then she tells Arya about Robb's visit and endures some merciless teasing before guilt tripping Arya into coming with them. 

She takes a long hot shower, soothing both the aches in her body and her mind. Margaery is too much to handle sometimes. She thinks they were once friends, friendly, something. But between dropping out of university, leaving Joffrey, and becoming a British Nancy Drew, she stopped caring about Margaery or even the things Margaery cared about. She washes her hair and spends a little extra time massaging her scalp. By the time she’s done, it’s dinner, and she cannot be late for dinner. It’s a new rule in the house. 

Bran is a meal tyrant. Eating has become quite an affair now that Bran has decided to become a chef. He likes the kind of power he wields with food, she thinks. He clearly has an artistic side that shows itself in his food plating and his Instagram. His Instagram, The Three Eyed Raven, has over a million followers that adore his character shaped breads and pastries. His taglines are inspiring and vague. And at home he demands everyone be on time to fully appreciate his hard work. 

She tries not to be jealous of the support he gets from their parents. Admittedly, he didn’t drop out of University to make a living creeping in bushes and interrogating strangers. But the way her parents fawn over him. Their son the chef. Their son the celebrity chef. It’s enough to make a girl scream. She doesn’t need them to fawn but maybe trust that she’s an adult? She’s not bitter. She swears it. 

Theon arrives on the dot at 9 pm looking for Robb. What he gets instead is Sansa dressed in her clubbing outfit, skinny jeans and a low cut shirt. But unlike when she goes out looking to pull, she’s wearing flats. The last time she went out with Theon, she had on her favorite glitter heels. Cost her two hundred pounds she didn’t have. She broke the heel off when Theon wound up a amateur women’s rugby team and they had to hook it. Theon offered to buy her a new pair, until he heard the price. 

“Looking fit, Sansa dear.” Theon whistles at her. “You coming along? Where’s your brother?”

Sansa has been dreading telling Theon there would be no Robb. But looking at him, in his chavvy shirt unbuttoned far too low, she decides to be honest. And because she has to be honest, she also decides that hell or high water, Theon would get laid tonight. He clearly needed it. 

“Robb ditched you for some bird. I’m taking you out and I’m going to wing-man better than Robb every could. .”

If Theon is disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He’s game for an adventure he tells her. She thinks he might just be lonely. He doesn’t even complain when she directs their Uber to Arya’s gym downtown to pick her up from work. She’s closing up when they arrive. 

“Alright, Arya” Theon calls as he pushes past the gym bods leaving.Sansa rolls her eyes at him. He’s sauntering up towards the front desk where a grim faced Arya is standing. “I’d no idea I’d see you.”

Sansa takes a look at her sister, standing there in a pair of black joggers and an orange oversized tee. She’s so glad she remembered clothing. 

“You can’t wear that.” Sansa says rudely interrupting Theon’s soliloquy. 

“Well, what’d you bring me then?” Both of them ignore Theon. 

“That bronze shirt I bought two summers ago? It’ll look way better on you than me. But it won’t go with the joggers. Didn’t bring you jeans. You wouldn’t fit mine. But I did bring that white off shoulder thing you hate. It’ll look like you don’t care.”

“I don’t.” Arya protests even as she takes the bag Sansa is handing her. 

“There’s lippy in there. Put it on.” Sansa calls as Arya heads to the locker room to change. “And you,” She turns to Theon. “Button up two of those buttons. If you insist upon wearing that shirt, at least wear it ironically.”

Arya doesn’t take long and Sansa is pleased to see that she remembered to put on lipstick. After locking up the gym they head out. Sansa takes a moment to think about what’s near by. There has to be an easy club in the vacinity. 

“This is perfect,” Theon crows as they start walking towards Soho. “ESX is nearby. I haven’t been there yet. I hear it’s supposed to remind you of a brothel and it’s run by a drug dealer by the name of Littlefinger.”

“Littlefinger!” Sansa looks over at Arya. “Wasn’t that creepy friend of Mum’s called Littlefinger? Except he was an accountant, I want to say. Not a drug dealer.”

The line is out the door, and Sansa almost groans. But Theon looks like an excited...well not a puppy but something small and excited. She resigns herself to standing in line when a tall handsome blonde stops by. 

“You.” he says glancing at her. “To the front of the line.”

Sansa drags Arya and Theon with her, ignoring the protests of everyone else in the line. At the front of the line, a big scarred doorman is sitting at the front preventing anyone from entering. The blonde man waves Sansa over. She can hear him mutter to the bouncer. 

“You know he loves a good redhead.” She doesn’t think she’s supposed to hear that, but she makes a note to herself. The bouncer is just nodding. 

“My friends come with?” She interrupts, opening her blue eyes wide and smiling what she calls her Lolita smile. She ignores the blonde to look directly at the bouncer. He swallows and nods, letting the three of them through. She thanks him with a wink and an arm squeeze. 

The music is loud and trendy. She’s pretty sure she’s heard of the DJ. The moment they walk in, they lose Theon. She turns to ask him what he wants to drink, only to find him gone. She thinks maybe she sees the side of him being swallowed up in dancers. She sighs and turns to see that thank God, Arya is still with her.

“You owe me like three bloody drinks.” Arya shouts in her ear. Sansa nods and heads to the bar where she finds, as she squeezes in between two peroxide blondes, that across the bar is a very familiar face. 

“Arya, “ Sansa finds her voice and leans over to her sister. “Is that Cersei Lannister-Baratheon?” She almost wants to rub her eyes. Cersei in a dance club is not something she ever thought she’d see. Cersei Lannister-Baratheon, the woman who once had high-tea with the Queen and complained about the scones; the woman who had the most expensive wedding in the world, so expensive they still talk about it over twenty five years later. That woman at a trashy club. 

“More importantly, Sansa,” Arya shout whispered back “ Is that Mum’s friend Petyr Baelish, aka Lttlefinger, leading her to the backroom?”

“Shite. Quick. Follow them.” Sansa grabbed Arya’s arm and started dragging her around the bar and towards the couple. 

“But my driiiiiink.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first Sansa cannot figure out where Cersei and Petyr have gone. They disappeared into the pulsing crowd and just simply vanished. Except there are a few random doors next to the bogs, and Sansa is not above opening every single one of them. She drags Arya behind her, walking as fast as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I own nothing but mistakes in spelling, grammar, syntax, etc. As well as my flagrant and inappropriate inclusion of slang I probably am using completely incorrectly. (Please please forgive me.)
> 
> This is a short little chapter to get us (and me) back into the swing of things.
> 
> Hope everyone is healthy and safe. Sending all good vibes your way.

At first Sansa cannot figure out where Cersei and Petyr have gone. They disappeared into the pulsing crowd and just simply vanished. Except there are a few random doors next to the bogs, and Sansa is not above opening every single one of them. She drags Arya behind her, walking as fast as she can.

“Sansa” her sister whines “your legs are too long. I can’t keep up.”

And sure enough. Arya is lagging behind. 

“You work at a gym!” Sansa hisses back exasperated. “You should be in better shape then I”

“I just gave them my two weeks notice!” Arya hisses back. “I won’t be there for long. Also I teach people how to climb. AND I’m a foot shorter than you!”

“Shhhhh” Sansa leans closer to a door, listening in. “Not this one.” 

The next one opens and a drunk stumbles out. She can see a urinal in the background. Not that one either. She pulls Arya on and on until they get to the last door. 

“It has to be this one!” She whisper-shouts and shoves her sister through it. Right into a back alley. 

“Shite.” There’s no one there. There is a dumpster. She keeps looking until she sees it. There in the back area is another door hidden in the bricks. As if deus ex machina, above and to the right of the door, a light goes on and just there is a window. 

“Here!” Sansa exclaims softly. She looks around. They can’t go in through the door, it’d be too obvious. And there doesn’t seem to be a fire exit on this side, which honestly is that even safe? There is no way up except perhaps climbing. There are a few bricks sticking out like climbing is encouraged. She looks at Arya, brightening slightly.

“No.” Arya says, shaking her head but already heading over. “This is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea.”

Sansa crouches down, cupping her hands. Arya shoves her left foot in, swinging up and grabbing a hold of bricks. 

“God, Arya,” Sansa huffs. “How are you so heavy and so tiny?”

“All muscle. Also you are weak. You really should go to a gym.”

“I do yoga.” She waits a few seconds until Arya gets into position, feet resting on different bricks, leaning up a little. “Can you hear anything?”

“Shhhhhh.” Arya hisses. “I think they said something about The Stag? Lions? Are they talking about some sort of fucked up zoo? Hold up.”

Behind them, Sansa hears the door open. She whistles to Arya and then hides behind the dumpster, peaking out to see what was going on. It’s just a drunk couple coming out for a smoke and a snog. Sansa turns back to Arya.

“Roses? What the fuck are they on about? This is the weirdest half conversation I’ve ever half heard.” Arya mutters. “Oh. Now they are talking about the wedding. God that’s all anyone talks about. Stupid wedding.”

The door bangs up, startling the snogging couple. A crowd rushes out. Running out of the building and away. 

“It’s the Filth,” someone in the crowd cries to the snogging couple who also take off.

“Arya!” Sansa hisses. 

“We gotta go!” Arya tries to climb down fast, but it’s bricks and not a climbing wall. 

“I’ll catch you?”

“You don’t sound confident!” But she drops down anyway, and Sansa half catches her, staggering under the impact. They look around. The crowd is still pouring out of the building.

“Ta. You didn’t do so bad catching me.” Arya admits begrudgingly. 

“Your gratitude is overwhelming. Come on. We gotta go.” They jump into the crowd too. Sansa glances back to see the light click off abruptly. They run with the crowd out of the alley and in front of the building, she can see at least ten police vehicles waiting out front. 

“Where did Theon bring us?” She breathes heavily to Arya, thinking to herself maybe Arya was right about needing to go to a gym. She is really out of breath. They are three/four maybe blocks away from the club, ducking into an alley. And then it hits her.

“Oh Bollocks. Theon.”

“Every-man for himself.” Arya mutters, but starts pulling out her phone to text him. “I’m famished. Chips?”

“Yeah. Alright.” They leave the alley, making sure to look like they are meandering about and not part of that weird club crowd legging it from a sketchy club. “This is why I wear flats whenever we go out with Theon. I swear, he invites trouble.”

“He just likes to pretend. It’s his upbringing. He wants to be hard like his sister.” Arya rolls her eyes and shoves her hands in her pockets. She is stomping a little, maybe a little irritated at Theon too. 

As they head into a busier section, Sansa finally glances at her phone. 

“That tosser.” She growls to Arya. “He ducked out early, found some bird willing to put up with him and just left us at this dodgy club that he picked!” 

“Yeah but you got us in. What was with that?”

“No idea. Here good?” Sansa nods to an open shop. They slip in. It’s a small shop, clean and bright. It smells of grease and fish, but in a good way. Sansa could suddenly go for some chips. She wasn't hungry before but now. The store is pretty empty and she takes a moment to look around. As she turns her head, she spots him there in the corner, a familiar figure, tall and imposing but also very very striking. Her breath stops for a second and her eyes widen. 

“Arya,” she starts to say but her voice catches. He’s wearing normal clothing, a warm blue naval sweater that fits him well. He is leaning over half eaten fish and chips, intent on his phone. She studies him for a moment. His lashes are long and when he is relaxed, he looks younger than she originally thought. He hasn’t noticed them yet. 

“Sans,” her sister calls out, always a touch too loud and vibrant. Sansa closes her eyes. No way he isn’t going to notice them now. “Whatcha want?” 

She opens her eyes. Sure enough, he looks up immediately and their eyes meet. His eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly. Her stomach drops. She is suddenly very aware of how she looks, disheveled from running, wearing clubbing clothing. She bites her lip for a second, then lifts her chin. There is no way around it. 

“Just chips.” She says back, relieved to hear her voice is steady. “Hello CI Baratheon. What a pleasant surprise to see you.”


End file.
